


Mycroft

by angelfiregirl80



Series: Prompts [19]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Love, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 12:18:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5707849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelfiregirl80/pseuds/angelfiregirl80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft’s Big Brother mode kicked in and he was by his little brother side once again; after many months of seeing him destroy himself in drug dens he helped him get clean, even when it meant that his little brother wasn’t “his” anymore. The day he locked Sherlock up in the rehab centre, he heard the most terrible words he could have ever heard, and he was never prepared for them</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mycroft

**Author's Note:**

> I love Mycroft, he sure is a wonderful big brother and Sherlock is unfair to him all the time. A little idea crossed my mind and here it is. Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Sorry for the absense. RL is a bit shitty, but I'm back!!!

When Mycroft turned seven; his parents announced to him that he was to become an older brother. He wasn’t sure that he could fulfil the role, and was mostly annoyed about the idea, but for his mother, he was willingly going to help; even though he hated the idea of having a little sibling. He was so used to being a single child, to have his parents’ undivided attention, that the news was worse than exciting or interesting.

As soon as Sherlock was born, Mycroft realised that being a big brother was more than he ever imagined, his parents told him that he was responsible for the little bundle too, and that he, as a big brother, had to set an example and protect him; Mycroft took the task as a commandment, and acted to the words as if they were a gospel; he was a “Big Brother” and had responsibilities.

The day his parents were back from the hospital, Mycroft had already set his mind as to what a big brother should do, and acted protectively towards the little baby; he would check on him every morning before school and every afternoon after he had arrived, he would do his homework in Sherlock’s room, and would read to him, no matter what he would read, his voice was soothing and the baby would stop crying as soon as he felt his brother was in the room.

Every night, he would read to Sherlock every storybook he laid hands on, Jules Verne, Alan Poe, Charles Dickens, pirate stories and books about bees. He would read to him his chemistry book as an easy way to learn, and also his math books and history and science; he noticed that Sherlock would listen to him intently, and would try to reach for his brother’s hands.

When Sherlock was five months old, his first word was “Myc”; and he would repeat it as much as possible, every morning, he would be up and as soon as his brother entered the room he would call after him “Myc, Myc, Myc, Myc” incessantly; Mycroft would carry him out of the cot and take him to the kitchen to his mother; Sherlock would always squirm and cry until Mycroft would promise him that he’ll be back.

Everything was great until Sherlock turned four, Mycroft was eleven and his parents allowed him to take Sherlock for a walk at the park; they played for a while, Sherlock being a pirate and looking for his booty; Mycroft being the one that would always loose and surrendered to “The Mighty Pirate Sherlock Holmes”. Sadly Sherlock got bored easily and Mycroft had to look for new ways to keep his brilliant little brother distracted.

Mycroft looked away for a second and Sherlock had found a new interest, a beehive, filled with bees. They stung the little boy trying to protect their home, and Mycroft had to use what he could find to stop the itching, that is, mud water. He ran back to the car and they were taken to the hospital; after that, their parents decided to send Mycroft to Eton, and that was almost the end of their brotherhood.

When Sherlock was eight, Mycroft returned from boarding school, and now, Sherlock would play pirates with Redbeard, a nice red haired setter. Mycroft’s heart broke, he felt replaced, and as any teenager, he acted out, lashing against the dog, and wishing the pup would be gone; one afternoon, a car killed Redbeard, and Mycroft felt guilty for wishing him dead; he slept in Sherlock’s room, and read to him until the boy had finally cried all the tears he had and fell asleep.

Sadly, after that summer; Mycroft had to go to University for four years to obtain his political studies degree, and Oxford was many hours away from his brother, he tried to keep him close, by writing to him, calling him every week, but it was evident that their relationship was getting colder with every passing day. He would visit every holiday and play with Sherlock, read to him, loan him books and discuss them with him later; one afternoon, when Sherlock was ten, he came home with a busted lip and a black eye; his classmates, all older kids, had called him a freak, and had beaten him because he was brilliant and had skip several years, just like Mycroft.

Mycroft set his mind to Big Brother mode once again, and helped his little brother with the obnoxious kids; he enrolled him in self-defence classes and in no time, he was beating the shit out of the freaking kids; Mycroft sure was a proud big brother. Sherlock was thankful and the brotherly bond seemed to be repaired, at least for the duration of University break.

When Sherlock turned thirteen, Mycroft came back home, but was offered a job in London, a minor government job that kept him away from his little brother, more than he could ever imagine, he tried to be home for holidays and a few weekends a month, but his job required him travelling around the world, and the brotherly bond was strained once again. He would send Sherlock books in many languages and would oversee his brother studying French, German, Italian, some Spanish even, all to keep him distracted.

Sherlock decided to go to University and study chemistry, when he turned sixteen, he communicated his family that he was going to Oxford, and his parents were more than happy that he would follow his big brother’s footsteps; with his “minor job” Mycroft kept an eye on his brother, and was a silent witness to his first heartbreak; he wanted to kill Victor, and he made him disappear, Sherlock found out all about it, and lashed against Mycroft, the brotherly bond was definitely broken.

When Sherlock turned nineteen, he finished University and disappeared from the map. Mycroft received a call from a young Yard Sargent, Gregory Lestrade, who claimed that his little brother was found in a drug den and that they had him in custody in London. Mycroft’s Big Brother mode kicked in and he was by his little brother side once again; after many months of seeing him destroy himself in drug dens he helped him get clean, even when it meant that his little brother wasn’t “his” anymore. The day he locked Sherlock up in the rehab centre, he heard the most terrible words he could have ever heard, and he was never prepared for them

“I hate you, you damn meddler, you left me, and now you pretend you care? Nice big brother I got, lucky me, to have a moron as a big bother, a meddler, a liar, somebody that never cared enough for me. I hate you” That day, both Holmes brothers learned that “caring is not an advantage” Mycroft’s heart was broken, yet again, but this time, he wasn’t replaced with a dog, he was replaced with drugs.   

Their relationship was never the same, but he was happy to pretend that he didn’t care; it was easier than to actually care, it was less painful. The day Sherlock “died” Mycroft made sure that “Lazarus” was perfect; his brother was in love again, and this time, he was sure that if something happened to John Watson, Sherlock would really die. He went to Serbia and helped his brother, once again, and put him back in London, only to see how his heart was shattered all over again; John chose Mary.

He didn’t attend the wedding because he couldn’t see his brother hurt again, at least not willingly, though he kept an eye on him and when he was found at the den again, he was mortified and wanted to kill John Watson. Then all hell got lose, and he had to arrest his baby brother, that little curly hair that made him smile every time he tried to impersonate a pirate, or follow bees all over the garden; he saw his eyes when he said goodbye and went to Eton, or when he had to go to Uni; he saw the face that smiled at him every time he entered a room, and being his little brother’s first word.   

And now, he was on a plane, watching him overdose, asking for a list, thinking how to get his little brother, wanting him back ‘caring is not an advantage, Mycroft’ he repeated himself; and all he could do now was ask the man that he hated the most, that had broken his baby brother’s heart, the man that he wanted to kill the most, with his own hands, to hear every bone in his body break, but at the same time, that he was most grateful in the world; to take care of him, to take care of his baby brother.  


End file.
